


Marigold-Tinted Lenses

by Rejuvenescenceia



Series: Wicked Games - A Sherlock Holmes AU [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Halloween, M/M, Sherlock AU, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rejuvenescenceia/pseuds/Rejuvenescenceia
Summary: There's a first for everything, including Halloween.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Series: Wicked Games - A Sherlock Holmes AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1519064
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Marigold-Tinted Lenses

**Author's Note:**

> Information for Dia de Muertos and different forms of observance in the US came from research online and discussing it with a Mexican American friend of mine who also observes the day. I apologize if I missed something or misrepresented something about it. Just a little slice of life for the boys.

_Hallowe’en had come early to 221B Baker Street, it seemed. We’d no sooner said our good-bye’s to the young Miss Song earlier that month, than a whirlwind of orange, green and purple had overtaken our quiet home. The scent of pumpkin mixed with baking bread and sugar cookies. It might have been quaint… if it wasn’t so sinister. Such a change, there had been, in my partner, that I could only speculate on the reasoning behind it. Where once there had been stoicism there was now machinations to that frightful night of Hallows Eve._

_I was working at my desk, a hand on the keys of my laptop, turning ideas over in the cogs of my mind, when the door opened and he walked in. My eyes raised, slow and steady, from his socked feet to his face. The man of course was a cliche. Tall, dark,_ and _handsome, he was a man who turned heads wherever he went. A man with secrets behind those mysterious green eyes, eyes that seemed to pierce through your skin to your bones._

_Gabriel Santino Reyes. The man with my heart in his hands._

_“You busy?” he asked, looking over my desk. A cigarillo smoldered in the ashtray, mostly forgotten in favour of the single malt whiskey I’d been drinking while I mused over my latest writings. By all appearances, I wasn’t, and simply caught up in the throes of writer's block._

_“I’ll always have time for you, sugar,” I replied, picking up my glass to drain it._

_He walked forward, favouring his left side, and sat on the edge of the desk, twisting to look at me. He’d taken to forgoing his cane during brief forays through the home, and it revealed his height and stature. It was easy to see that old vetran inside of him, the coiled power held back by his lame right leg. “I came to ask you about tonight,” he said. “And our plans for it.”_

_Of course I had vague plans of my own involving several found footage horror movies and plenty of artery hardening snacks, but clearly Gabriel had something more substantial on his mind. I nodded at him, leaning back in my desk chair, an arm thrown over the back. “Lay it on me.”_

_“Jack called.”_

_Ah. Commander Jack Morrison, hero cop and golden man. There was no love lost between him and I, our methods far too different, and his approval of my past would never change. Morrison looked at me like a man expecting me to attack at any moment, or as though he thought I was a spy about to trade away the best of secrets._

_“And what does our illustrious friend want?”_

_Gabriel snorted, shaking his head. While their friendship had rekindled more of late, approaching the camaraderie I suspected they had whilst serving together in the Marines, Gabriel never tried to convince me to like the man, which I appreciated. My past notwithstanding, no one likes to be treated like a criminal. “The LAPD does extra work on Hallowe’en, and they’re a few short in a couple areas. I figured we could tell Jack we’d be around while we’re taking the kids out.”_

_The offer of help seemed mighty selfless to me. I knew what else the tonight represented, and the following ones. A busy weekend for my partner, all in all, but he seemed more or less at ease… and waited for me to reply._

_“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “I guess we can run out and get a few costumes? Or does Commander Morrison want us more plain?”_

_-_

“You’re doing that narrating thing again,” said Gabriel, staring at Jesse with a penetrative look. The tone of his voice, and the amusement in his eyes, completely shattered the black and white neo noir feel of Jesse’s thoughts, turning them a little more prosy than poetic. 

“No I’m not,” Jesse lied at once, smothering a smile and dropping the voice in his head. Gabriel once again deducing his thoughts. Jesse found he didn’t mind at all, though. It was just a mark of how he was moving along.

“You are, because when you talk you get that tone of voice.” Gabriel started to smile, shaking his head. “Where you sound like a detective from an old cop show.”

“Well, you caught me in a writing mood,” Jesse replied, stubbing the cigarillo for now, before he stood. Gabriel watched him walk around the desk, and he didn’t move as Jesse settled next to him, or protest when Jesse took one of his hands to kiss.

“Mm.” Jesse closed his eyes, taking in Gabriel’s scent. _Orange zest, flour, yeast._ “You’ve been baking?”

_“Pan de Muerto.”_

Jesse kissed his knuckles a few more times, then lowered his hand to hold. He’d never celebrated himself, but it had occurred to him Gabriel might, even though he knew the other man was strictly atheist. “We going to a graveyard…?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. Mariana keeps the family _ofrenda_ at home. We went and cleaned up _abuelo_ and _abuelita’s_ graves yesterday. And dad.” The last word was tacked on, a sort of tightness to it. 

“We going to Mari’s then?”

“Nah. Here, something to show you. Been busy while you’ve been listening to country music, drinking, and writing.”

“Trying to write.” Jesse glanced at the laptop, then pushed it shut. “Failing. But eventually words’ll come out and it’ll pay a bill or two.”

Outside of the narrative of his mind, Jesse’s study was chaotic and not unlike his room. There was a little more of a method to it, at least. Detective work and writing each had their own places. The antique chestnut desk took the space of honor near the back of the room, and was the only place that could accurately be considered _clean,_ at least by Gabriel’s standards. Each wall, however, had banks of filing cabinets storing everything from his own writings to evidence and cold case files, and a corkboard apiece with whatever the focus of the week might happen to be. There was also a chalkboard that Gabriel particularly disliked, mostly because of the dust. Jesse just liked the aesthetic, and getting powdery hands so he could leave prints on Gabriel’s ass.

Stepping into the hall, though, he could smell everything Gabriel had been cooking in anticipation of the next few days, which gave the apartment a more toothsome smell than cigar smoke and whatever experiment Jesse might be up to at the time.

In the kitchen fresh baked bread with a sweet sugary orange glaze, a bone like pattern over its crispy brown crust, sat on a cooling rack. There were also sugar cookies decorated with royal icing waiting to be eaten, but he managed to resist as he looked over them. Also noted was a large bag of corn husks resting next to a bag of _masa._

“Got your work cut out for you?” he asked.

“I guess. I’ll be cooking most of it tomorrow, though.” A pause. “You can have a cookie, stop drooling.”

Jesse swiped one at once. “You shouldn’t have told me it was okay to take one. Now they won’t taste as nice.”

“I’ll be sure to put some away and write ‘don’t touch’ just for you.”

“‘Preciate it.”

There was a clatter and he turned just as Gabriel growled _“Cat”_ in a threatening tone. With a mouthful of icing and cookie he didn’t have much to say, but once he’d cleared his tongue he let out a crumby whistle. 

He hadn’t noticed at once, thanks to the tantalizing promise of Gabriel’s baking, but just edged on the other side of one of the kitchen cabinets was a credenza that Ingrid had given them, but it had transformed. A brightly coloured cloth was draped over it, with several vases of marigolds, unlit candles, and intricate calaveras. Jesse’s eyes, however, were drawn to the pictures and he walked forward, leaning in.

A fluffy black cat, curled in a windowsill. The picture was slightly saturated with yellow, a la 80’s photography. _Slayer,_ he guessed, remembering Gabriel mentioning the cat he’d loved. Next to it was a picture with a darker tint, a man who looked very much like the one behind him, though he only wore a moustache and had no scars. He had to be Gabriel’s father, but Jesse couldn’t recall a name. It had only ever been _dad,_ without mention of a mother. He had a serious expression himself, a cigarillo clamped between his lips.

The last photo was a family photograph. Obviously taken in the 80’s as well. Mariana was small, only perhaps five years old sitting on the lap of a smiling, stately looking woman with long black hair gently brushed with grey who must be Gabriel’s _abuelita._ Next to them was an imperious looking man, tall and wiry, already grey, that Jesse guessed to be his _abuelito._ Gabriel himself was young, though, maybe thirteen. It was easy to tell it was him, thanks to the surly expression, with ripped jeans and ancient combat boots that were obviously too big.

“That’s my girl Slayer, my dad Luis, Mariana when she was still cute, my _abuelita_ Jimena, and my _abuelo_ Santino,” said Gabriel, hands in his pockets. 

“Your sister’s still cute.”

“Easy.” Gabriel gave him a customary nudge but his tone was amused. 

“So… what’s the usual protocol for this? For you, I mean?”

Gabriel shrugged. “There isn’t one. I haven’t celebrated in years. I’m usually working. But since I’m more or less settled, it feels like it’s time enough to do _something._ I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. And… if I’m wrong and there’s an afterlife they can visit from? I’d like them to know I’m okay. And I’d like them to know you, too.”

The words caused a little chill to roll over Jesse’s skin, making it prickle. He’d never been a religious man himself. He didn’t fault others for it, but in the dark world he walked in there was no room for destiny or a final plan. There was what you prepared for and endured. The idea that these people Jesse had never met would somehow have the capacity to approve of him was unsettling in a way.

But even if there were no souls, no ghosts, nothing come later, it wasn’t such a bad thing to honour the good a person did in life. So with nothing to say he reached over to squeeze Gabriel’s hand, and savoured the returned pressure on his own fingers.

“Anyway,” said Gabriel. “We’ve got maybe four hours before the kids get here all ready and raring to go for their sugar high.”

It had been an interesting week. Gabriel’s 48th birthday had been a handful of days before. Jesse had never much cared for birthdays to this point, but having Gabriel around gave him an excuse to want to party, to spoil him. Now yet another holiday - in a sense - was here. 

_Might be a stressful few days._

“We don’t have to take the kids trick or treatin’.” Jesse resisted the urge for another cookie, leaning against the table. “We can stay in. Watch horror movies.”

“Nah. We’ll get a bunch of candy, take the kids around, come home, get fat. I want that. I want… normalcy,” said Gabriel as he covered the vulnerable food from the Cat. Said beast was currently staring at the _ofrenda_ again, and Jesse had a sneaking suspicion that more than a few marigolds were going to have their doom hastened the second he and Gabriel were out of the house. “Or at least, normal for us.”

Jesse smiled. It’d be another new experience.

 _Trick or treating._ He’d never done that either. 

“Let me get my sweater and we can grab costumes,” said Gabriel, heading past. “And if you’ve got a photo you should put it on the _ofrenda_ too.”

“Maybe.” Jesse’s voice went quiet, thinking of Ana. The open circumstances of her death. He’d never been able to prove anything to his own satisfaction, but… 

It was on his mind as they headed down to borrow the Lindholm van yet again, which was currently theirs if only because Gabriel had apparently agreed to take out a good portion of the Lindholm extended family along with his niece and nephews.

Nestled in the empty bones of a closed down record shop was the costume store, the parking lot so full that Gabriel spent a good minute cursing out bad drivers as he wedged the Odyssey between a Ford 150 and a Toyota Prius. Getting out was also a treat, mostly getting to hear all of Gabriel’s favourite swears blending into one.

The store itself entered into wispy scraps of fabric and cotton spiderwebs. Somewhere, out of a prop or animatronic, maniacal laughter that made Jesse think of Vincent Price sounded to passers by.

One such likely construct, in the form of a storm drain, caught his eye. In the faux darkness helped along with black paint, two beady eyes lit with miniscule red LED’s stared at him. Curious, Jesse leaned over, an eyebrow raised. “Mr. Pennywise, that you?”

With an impressive screech from hidden speakers, the clown in question shot forward out of the drain, a demented grin on its face. Smiling, Jesse stood up straight and glanced over at Gabriel.

“Not bad. I’ll tell you what, Tim Curry ain’t got anything on Bill Skarsgård,” he said, as Pennywise retreated back into the shadows to wait for the next face that pushed itself up to the motion sensor.

“He’s definitely the creepiest one out of that family,” said Gabriel, who was currently admiring an animatronic werewolf that was swinging its head and snarling loudly. “C’mon, let’s go get our pockets gouged.”

Jesse might be concerned about Gabriel’s funds, but he knew Echo was topping up his bank account and had been since the night Bartalotti had died. Thinking about that night caused a sharp little reminder - _29 days,_ in the boldest and brightest of neon reds _-_ in his head, since the last time he’d used. In another three he’d get his one month clean chip from Genji, and probably be forced to go to an NA meeting. He staunchly avoided them most days, unless Genji insisted.

At least, thanks to Angela’s help, he hadn’t had the urge to use after the initial withdrawals, and he’d weaned back off the methadone as fast as she would allow him so he was at his usual day-to-day work against using. A busy, distracted mind could harbour no room for heroin to try and get its little white fingers into him.

The costume store was crowded and packed tight with all manners of merchandise. Animatronics were not the least of these, ranging from small spiders set to jump at a hand reaching into a candy bowl, to groaning mummies waving dessicated, pallid hands. There were flimsy plastic housewares, decorations, enough fake weaponry to arm an entire crowd to fend off the zombie apocalypse, aisles of wigs, make-up, and of course costumes trapped in hard to open plastic bags made of flimsy fabric that would likely burst if you stared at them funny.

Rows upon rows of these were available to peruse, from classics like zombies and witches, to pop culture like Fortnite and Marvel, and the downright, generically racist. He made a face at the ‘Cowboys and Indians’ section as they passed, and was pleased Gabriel was angling past that to the more theatrical costumes near the back of the store, which surely had three digit price tags.

“What do you have planned?” asked Jesse, poking his fingers into the vacant eye sockets of a horrendous ‘President’ mask.

“Umm…” Gabriel sounded distracted, but Jesse was busy poking the mouth of the mask in on itself so it looked like an orange baby that had eaten something sour. “Oh! Here we go.” 

Jesse turned to see what the choice was, even though he’d rather shop around a bit, maybe find something silly to wear. The answer was apparent after a moment and Jesse decided he liked the choice just fine, even as he raised an eyebrow and barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s not really what I envisioned when I did _my_ take on it.”

There on the rack, of a fairly decent quality for a pop-up type costume shop similar to Spirit Halloween, was a ‘Night of Junkenstein’s Revenge’ costume set, a silly production made by Goldshire and Hal. A Van Helsing costume and a Dracula costume were hung side by side. He supposed the one next to it, the Huntress, was not one of the ones Gabriel was considering, but he couldn’t help but rib him.

“I bet your thighs would look great in the Countess’s pantaloons,” he said conspiratorially. “A good choice.”

He also had to dodge Gabriel’s elbow, which he did with a pleased cackle.

“I saw them on a website the other day. I’d just finished reading your interpretation of Helsing and got the idea. I liked your Helsing better than the movie this is after, though.”

Jesse smiled. “He was pretty suave, wasn’t he?”

“I liked the homoerotic subtext with him and Vlad, too.”

“Mmm. You know me so well. That mean we’re gonna make out in these later?”

“We better.”

**

As nice as they looked on the rack, Jesse supposed they were made with smaller men in mind. He had to get a size up for his own shoulders, and couldn’t imagine how Gabriel was doing in his. Still, once he was past that, the fit wasn’t half bad. He’d be lying if he said some of Helsing’s mannerisms hadn’t been gleaned from himself, so when he turned to look in the mirror and raised that fake plastic six shooter he felt pretty good.

 _I bet I could make some good replicas,_ he thought, looking down at the prop and mentally running over finding the right handguns to modify, and what parts he might have to craft himself instead of just engrave.

Not being any kind of seamstress, however, he did wonder how much official cosplay outfits might cost and filed the thought away for later research.

The door opened out in the apartment beyond, and 221B was met with the sounds of Gabriel’s niece and nephews, all of them yelling as they went. Below the floor Torbjörn hollered for quiet, but it likely wouldn’t help. The man had nine grandchildren, all under twelve, and it was the second holy day of children’s interests when it came to candy. He’d probably be hitting his favourite herbal vodka hard.

 _“TIO TIO TIO!”_ the kids chanted in the hall, and he heard Gabriel’s door rattle. “We’re heeeere!”

The door slammed again, making the Cat tear through the crack in his door for the safety of the bed, and he could hear Mariana next. “ _Hola pequeños demonios! ¡Ve más despacio!”_

He guessed that meant he ought to make an appearance as well. So far they hadn’t told Mariana or the kids about the relationship, mostly because the rugrats might spill the beans to Jack if they saw him. They were both enjoying having a secret for now. It sucked, but he’d be on his best behavior, and ensure if he grabbed Gabriel’s ass it would be incognito.

In the hall he was met with Captain Marvel, Slenderman, and Steve from Minecraft. All of them turned at once to see him and waved hands, pillowcases hanging from them already laden with a few lumps of candy.

“Tio Jesse! Do you like our costumes?” demanded Elanor, striking a powerful pose. “Guess who I am!”

 _“I’M_ Steve!” chirped the youngest, Xavier, the boxes of his costume twisting around comically. 

“And I’m Slenderman, and I can eat you all!” yelled Alejandro, before reaching out pale hands at his little brother, who shrieked. Once again there was a Swedish yell through the floor, followed by a hubbub of commotion down below.

“Back in the kitchen!” called Mariana. “Sorry, Jesse.”

“No harm done,” he replied easily, before winking at Elanor. “Those’re some nice costumes. And gee, Captain Danvers, you mind tellin’ Elanor next time you see her I missed havin’ her here for Halloween?”

He joined them in waiting for Gabriel, though he was curious to see the other man in his costume and kept glancing back at the door. Mariana was dressed up as the Mama Imelda from Coco, and she looked good for it, offering him a tired smile and a little wave as he came in. The kids all went to the living room, Alejandro hunting up the remote at once for Netflix.

“No Diego?” His eyes dropped, noting a swell to her stomach. As a fitness instructor and personal trainer, it seemed odd. He hadn’t seen enough of her to know if she’d been getting sick… but she _had_ served a vegetarian meal last Sunday despite her husbands complaints, which was a little out of character of how she usually cooked.

“Working a late shift,” she said, though she didn’t look happy about it. “He might come by later.”

The sound of Gabriel’s bedroom door had Jesse turning perhaps a little too fast for a platonic roommate, but he’d been entertaining thoughts of Gabriel in Dracula’s movie get up the entire way home, drawing up comparisons, sinking into memories laying awake considering Dracula himself and alternate ways to portray him, humanise him. 

Jesse’s heart squeezed a bit. Despite the fact the costume itself was only an imitation of quality, he found himself wishing longingly that it had been Gabriel there in his thoughts as he’d considered Helsing and Dracula’s inevitability, the lust despite the bitterness of betrayal, their conflicting desires. Gabriel filled out the costume nicely, looking both regal and deadly in his faux velvet and leather. Jesse imagined how he’d move and fight in it, tacking on the effects in his mind - the blood, the sharp teeth, the red eyes. And was that - _he’s wearing eyeliner._

It was about then his brain switched off.

Gabriel was smirking and said something. It took Jesse far too long to comprehend he’d been spoken to and blinked a few times.

“What?”

“I said, so it’s good then?” 

_Oh._ “I’ll say. You look a better part than, uh. That guy who played him. In that film.” He could not remember the name, at all.

Mariana laughed quietly, but when Jesse turned around to look at her she was apparently occupied with the kids. When he looked back at Gabriel, the other man winked. 

After Gabriel had gone through looking at each kid's costume and praising them, and promising next year he’d get back into sewing, they lined up the troops. Each of them had their pillow cases and glowsticks. Jesse felt oddly excited following them down the stairs, seeing the absolute _joy_ in their faces when they spilled out into the lawn to see the waiting Lindholm’s who would be accompanying them.

Dressed like a viking, Brigitte stood at the top of the crowd with a bag of her own, quite possibly for her last Halloween outing. She looked a lot like her mother, her hair dyed blonde and braided back. Whether she was aware of it or not, the boy she’d brought along was obviously smitten with her and wouldn’t look away, and puffed up when he saw Jesse and Gabriel, as if he thought they were somehow a threat. 

There were five Lindholm’s otherwise, one a set of twins, all comparing costumes with the newcomers. One of the younger boys was also Steve from Minecraft, he noticed, who had begun to duel with diamond swords the second they saw each other. 

“Eight kids,” said Jesse, in a mutter not meant to share. “And I ain’t allowed to smoke.”

“Smoking’s _BAD,”_ said Xavier, right before the young Lindholm smacked him in the face with a foam sword. 

“It’ll be fiiiine,” said Brigitte to them with a little wave of her hand. “We’ve got this covered.” She cleared her throat and spoke up loudly, clearly used to addressing the crowd. “Everyone, pay attention! If you don’t, I eat all your Reese Cups!”

That got their attention fast, and like clockwork they all looked at her obediently. 

“Everyone find someone’s hand to take and stick to it. No bargaining with people handing out candy, you get what you get. Trading and swaps will be commenced after we get home. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get going!” she clapped her hands twice. “To candy!”

“CANDY!” all the kids roared, following her into the street.

Gabriel, however, nudged Jesse as they turned to follow the group. “It’s alright, I brought a hip flask.”

The sun was already starting to set. For a neighborhood Jesse wouldn’t consider family friendly on a regular day it sure had transformed itself. Maybe it was the high Latinx population anticipating the next few days’ celebrations, maybe it was simply because it had been so long since a holiday many really cared about. From what Jesse could tell, current working America didn't observe Memorial Day unless you were at least middle class, and the Fourth of July was a far gone memory.

Decorations were hung here and there, bushes covered with fake cotton spiderwebs, bats and witches hung from eves and ghosts were stuck into windows. One house had a graveyard created complete with fake hands erupting from the ground. Everywhere were pumpkins with their ghostly flickering faces. While Gabriel and Jesse were also there to keep an eye on possible mischief and vandalism, it looked like everyone was just out to have a good time.

Jesse found himself smiling, holding the hand of one of Torbjörn’s granddaughters as they went between houses. She sucked on a Tootsie pop, eyes alight with wonder at each new decoration, occasionally jumping up and down in excitement, or tucking against his leg to hide when something was scary. Some of the kids would run back and hand him and Gabriel candy, which was starting to make Jesse’s flimsy pockets bulge. Even Brigitte was getting a haul, though her rather taciturn boyfriend-not-boyfriend didn’t seem to be getting much. Maybe because his vocabulary was singular-syllable, maybe because his costume was like a slapdash Hiccup from _How To Train Your Dragon_.

Jesse guessed the weather to be perhaps the late 50’s, early 60’s, something befitting of a fall night where spirits came to play. Just the right amount of chill, for Los Angeles. 

One of the young couples on the street - married early, often worried about money - had a new puppy who strained on its leash, dressed as a blue triceratops and running to greet everyone who came for candy. They were both smiling as they handed out mini chocolate bars. Perhaps the bad times were behind?

A turn of his head to the other side of the street. An elderly woman Jesse merely knew as Mrs. Levine was dressed as a witch, handing candy from a bowl to whoever approached. Her pumpkin was fake, but she was still waving merrily and drinking her way through a party bottle of red wine out of Napa Valley. Pension check had come in, he supposed. He’d be keeping an eye out to make sure some of the neighborhood brats didn’t try to steal her decorations.

Their path led past Jesse and Gabriel’s preferred grocery store. The owner, Don Williams, was a hippie type of man who liked to grow his own grass off the balcony of the second floor. He had miniature packs of Sour Patch Kids for the little ones and waved Gabriel and Jesse over, passing on a homemade baggie of gummies that Jesse was going to have to give a miss, but Gabriel slipped it into his breast pocket. 

At a used bookstore a few blocks down, one Jesse liked to frequent when feeling restless and unable to stay at home, there was a small haunted house set up with games like bobbing for apples and a marshmallow toss. What had Jesse smiling was a ‘murder mystery’ they had set up with a stuffed victim and several murderers to choose from. Kids who guessed correctly would get a free, full sized candy bar. The second he saw the props, however, he knew who had done it without asking the story. 

“Can you get it, Gabi?” he asked, tilting his head to look at the other man, as the kids lined up to hear the story and vie for a Butterfingers. 

“It was the paperboy,” Gabriel murmured back. Jesse didn’t miss the slow shiver Gabriel made hearing him say his name that way, and felt internally smug.

“Awh, you don’t even need the story?” Jesse gently prodded him with one hand, feeling proud. Truth be told, he wanted to kiss Gabriel. Badly. That whole ‘keep it a secret from anyone who didn’t matter’ thing _was_ kind of a pain.

“No. I already got a look at the evidence. The costumes gave it away.”

They took a few steps away from the group, sharing the flask back and forth between them. Jesse wanted a smoke, but he enjoyed the moment of quiet, and the fond way Gabriel was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, amused as he passed the flask back, licking a drop of whiskey from his lips.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Jesse snickered, then glanced to the side. A little bakery he also enjoyed was just closing for the night, and something in the window caught his eye, sending him on a slow trip down memory lane.

“‘Scuse me.”

“Don’t be long, kids are almost done,” said Gabriel, before clapping for their groups two winners, Elanor and Catherine. The other kids all got consolation prizes, at least, before scattering for the other activities.

After buying what he was after, with it tucked into a fold-up, pink cardboard box, the journey of that night continued. Beyond only having to chase off a few assholes smoking dope around kids, it ended on a high note around nine pm, with each kid weighed down by a pillowcase of candy (pardoning the two littlest, who’d passed their burden onto Gabriel).

Sleepy, sated faces were all around as they trooped back to Baker St. Mari took the kids, obviously annoyed with Diego’s absence (and faintly ill, Jesse noticed, after she’d helped herself to one of the kids’s popcorn balls). Xavier was fast asleep the second the straps were done on his car seat. 

He also noticed, as the Lindholm’s went into the 221A, that Brigitte’s boyfriend had utterly failed to get a goodnight kiss. 

As Gabriel called Jack to let him know that there was nothing special to report in their neck of the woods, Jesse headed up to 221B, a smile still on his face. 

He turned his pockets out to reveal a mass of candy. After a moment’s careful consideration, he picked up a miniature Milky Way and tore it with his teeth before taking off his hat, laying it on the table. The Cat With No Name was there a moment later to investigate a package of Smarties that had rolled his way.

“Those’re disgusting. I expect you to have better taste’n’that,” he told the ginger beast, now quite gangly as kittenhood progressed into adulthood. He swished his tail in response and began to assault it, ignoring the derision. Clearly nameless outlaw Cats had no care for bad taste. They also had coordination issues, as Cat and treat both rolled off the table with a thump and a scramble of claws.

He popped the candy in his mouth and looked over the liquor shelf, wondering what he had that could be suitably ‘spooky’ before deciding to just take a bottle of the 12 Year Glen Livet down to pour a couple of glasses.

He tracked the sound of Gabriel’s footsteps and the thud of his cane up the stairs and into the kitchen as he watched the amber liquid settle around a ball of ice each. When Gabriel kissed him it tasted like chocolate, and he hummed quietly in his throat.

“You taste sweet,” Gabriel murmured against his lips.

“Makin’ you hungry?”

“You always do.” Another kiss, getting deeper. When Jesse pressed his tongue back past Gabriel’s lips, teasing against his tongue, he felt a small point there, and teased his tongue against it, the sharpness of a canine that hadn’t been there before as a low roll of arousal stoked a fire in him. 

He knew the adhesive wouldn't stand against a hard bite. Had to be careful with it. He didn’t much fancy the idea of it breaking, or getting lodged in his neck. But the idea is there regardless. “All this time and you’re still trying,” he murmured, feeling a little sly as he opened up a door in his own mind and found Van Helsing there, waiting as though no time had passed between Jesse’s conjuring years ago, wanting to explore the depth of emotion, of love to hate, between two real enemies. 

Gabriel’s green eyes were puzzled a moment, but he caught on when Jesse raised an eyebrow. He knew Gabriel had never done any sort of roleplaying in bed before, he’d been told as much. It had gone onto a little list of proclivities, like Gabriel’s inexperience ceding control and letting another man take him, or that little gleam Gabriel got in his eyes once when Jesse had admitted experience in being a dominant. New things to try, to introduce, to experiment with, bit by bit.

“I don’t think we’ll ever stop this deadly dance,” said Gabriel, lifting the line from the book. Jesse was impressed by his memory. “Not until you kill me… or you ask me to kill you.”

Fighting down the gremlin-like impulse to make a joke about wooden stakes, he instead pulled Gabriel in for another kiss, hands on the other man’s lapels. He didn’t jerk nearly has hard as he wanted, easing off when he heard a seam make a suspicious sound.

Despite the limp, he and Gabriel were well practiced in this dance. The walk to the room, the memorized path to the bed. He paused only enough to turn and let Gabriel fall down first, to spare him the weight on his leg, before he was following the other man down.

“I’m fuckin’ in love with you, Gabriel Santino Reyes,” he said, stradled over Gabriel’s lap, his arms on either side of the other man’s head as he looks down at him. 

Gabriel smiled and reached up, smoothing a hand over faux leather, and curling his fingers. “That’s not Dracula’s name.”

Jesse rocked his hips, grinding them down together, and enjoyed the look of distraction on Gabriel’s face. “Don’t be a smartass,” he said, the corner of his lips raising. “I mean it.”

A quiet chuckle, and the sparkle of love in his eyes with the sound caused a xylophonic shiver to creep down Jesse’s spine. 

“I love you too, Jesse McCree.” Gabriel’s hand moved up to stroke a thumb over Jesse’s lips. “Gonna need to ID you so I can get that middle name.”

Jesse tilted his head into that hand. “I don’t have one.”

“No?” Gabriel’s fingers moved higher, to brush through his hair. 

“No.” Not something he wanted to talk about, not with Gabriel beneath him. There were far more important things to attend to. So he leaned down and captured his lips again, rocking his hips. “Trick or treat?”

Gabriel’s answering growl was more than the answer he wanted.

**

When he woke up the next morning, Jesse was a little surprised that he’d gotten around five hours, though he couldn’t say exactly at what point he and Gabriel had stopped and he’d let himself drift off. There were no nightmares either that night. Not from Gabriel waking up gasping as his mind replayed all the wars he’d waded through, or even the dark and unsettling march of his own dreams.

He could smell coffee as he glanced at the shaded window behind his headboard. The light was never a great indicator from there, pointing north as it did, but he gauged it to be around eight am. Considering he was typically up with the sun, he’d had a good lie in.

Jesse shifted out of the bed, noting Gabriel was gone. The sheets were wrinkled and a mess, and would need changing. He reached out, gathering them, yanking the fitted elastics away from the edges, enjoying the smooth texture of the rayon sheets under his fingertips, until he had them all bundled. Naked as a jaybird, he left the room with it all packed into a makeshift sack, and headed for the washing machine.

Out in the hall he could smell other things cooking as well. Gabriel was making the dough for the tamales, he could tell by the floury smell of the _masa harina,_ and he was cooking pork, the scent of rendering fat, cumin, and chilis making his stomach growl.

Laundry in the wash, he headed back down the hall to get a look at Gabriel. He was dressed, which was both disappointing and understandable. No one wanted hair in the _tamales._

“Do we get these for breakfast?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Gabriel, looking up and giving Jesse a smirk. “Why don’t you get dressed and help me finish these up.”

“No fun.” But he was turning around to go hunt up some clothes, which turned out to be Gabriel’s clothes anyway. 

Coffee obtained, he and Gabriel worked together spreading the soft masa dough on soaked corn husks and adding either meat or cheese, and steaming them. The food wasn’t ready for another hour or so, but Jesse was in no rush, enjoying watching Gabriel cook.

The first serving, however, was neatly stacked on one of his older talavera plates that never saw use. Along with the _calavera_ cookies and the _pan de muerto,_ Gabriel left them on the _ofrenda_ and lit a candle. 

“Isn’t _Dia de Muertos_ tomorrow?” asked Jesse as he watched Gabriel step back from what he’d set out.

“Mm. Yes. Partially. Some places celebrate over three days, some over two, some only on the second. My _abuelita,_ though, tended to celebrate at the _ofrenda_ on the first, and take us to the graveyard to eat with family on the second. I think I’ll keep this out for her for a few days.”

As Gabriel headed back to check the steamer, Jesse moved forward. Eyes on the little offerings, he knew in his heart he didn’t really believe in any of it. Nothing had ever proven the existence of a soul to him, sober or otherwise. 

The pink cardboard box from the day before was opened, revealing a few rows of smooth white cookies topped with pistachios. He added them to the plate of sugar cookies before stepping back and setting the box aside.

No photograph. Not because he didn’t have one, but because there was still enough unsurety that there wasn’t yet a spirit to come back. A tiny _(hope)_ possibility that Ana could be alive somewhere, hiding. 

He closed his eyes, realizing how much he missed her. The pain wasn’t lessened either, as Gabriel’s arms wrapped around Jesse’s shoulders and rough lips found the back of his neck. 

It was such an odd feeling, to both be jealous and not be at the same time.

“I never had folks,” he said quietly, opening his eyes again to watch that flame at the end of the black taper flicker. “All I really know is I got dropped off at a hospital when I was young. I wasn’t a healthy kid, so no one adopted me. Just kinda made my way through the foster system until I wound up in a sorta boarding school for difficult kids. We’d get rented out for ‘work experience’ to a few different farms in the area. S’where I met… them. The others from Deadlock. And I ain’t particularly cut up about it or anything. S’just a reason why for a few things about me. No middle name. No real clue about my background. Just… suspicions, considerin’ the area’n’all. And I don’t much care to take a DNA test. Some answers ain’t worth knowin’ if it means your fucking entire genetic profile is sittin’ in a bank somewhere waiting to be grabbed by the cops.”

Gabriel kissed Jesse again, his lips moving from the nape of Jesse’s neck to the side. Jesse appreciated that he didn’t apologize or offer sympathies like so many other people would. He was quiet instead. Waiting.

“Ana was the first real mom I ever had. Echo was kind of one too, I guess… but she always seemed to _want_ that. Kinda crave it. Or expect it. Ana just _was.”_ He turned in Gabriel’s arms to kiss him, nuzzle against his throat, try to put it out of his head. “Mm.”

For his part, Gabriel merely stroked his back.

With the visual out of his head for the time being he considered his thoughts, then pulled his head back and rubbed his nose against Gabriel’s.

“If your _abuelos_ show, I hope they approve of this mystery enshrouded bastard.”

“I’m sure they approved the moment I fell for you,” said Gabriel, tilting his head to press their foreheads together. “And I hope Ana approves of us too. C’mon, _vaquero._ Let’s get you fed.”

“Mm. If your Mama Jimena is here, let it be known that she did a damn good thing teachin’ you to cook.”


End file.
